“Don’t make me regret this.”
“That won’t be a problem,” he said, kissing her again. He was going to make sure of that. That was always his goal, to make sure a woman enjoyed herself and maybe thought about him a few times after they parted ways. But if he was going to get a shot with Dani, he didn’t just want her to remember him, he wanted her to forget everyone but him. For tonight, at least.
He yanked her panties off, dragging his fingers between her legs, making sure she was ready, but she wasn’t interested in taking their time. “Now,” she ordered.
He tried to keep the smirk from his face at the way her eyes had gone wild. “You okay there, Dani-pie?”
“Dylan!”
God, she was gorgeous. He kissed her again, then tossed her leg over his shoulder and finally fulfilled his biggest dream of the last two years.
Just like in all of his fantasies, Dani met him halfway.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
“Oh my God,” Dani moaned. Shit. She was awful at listening to her brain. She really hadn’t intended to give Dylan any more ammo for his enormous ego, but she’d have to give him this one, because Oh. My. God.
Dylan smiled against her mouth, clearly pleased with her reaction. Not that she’d spent much time wondering how this might play out between them, what he’d be like—sure, she’d let it cross her mind once or twice, he wasn’t exactly subtle—but she had to admit, in the small amount of brain space she’d assigned him, she’d severely underestimated him.
Dylan let her leg fall, leaning forward and grabbing her hips to pull her underneath him. Now she could reach his back and ass, and she couldn’t get enough exploring. His body was new and familiar at the same time. She’d seen him in a swimsuit a hundred times, scoped out the visual contours of his body, but she hadn’t imagined how good all this smooth muscle would feel flexing under her palms. How firm and warm his skin would be.
“You taste like candy,” he said, curling his back to run his tongue between her breasts.
“That’s a line if I ever heard one.” But she wasn’t opposed to lines at the moment. Lines were fucking working.
“How about this, then? You’re gorgeous and a dream come true.”
“That’s better.” She let herself giggle at the ceiling while Dylan moved up her neck, pressing a soft, tickling kiss to the skin below her ear. She pushed her fingers into his thick, dark hair and felt him buck inside her. She’d been thinking about touching that hair for as long as she’d known him, pulling it, messing it out of its perfect style.
“Shit, Dani. You feel so good,” he said, his lips exploring her body like he was committing it to memory. The way he seemed almost giddy, a smile on the edge of every kiss, surprised her. If she didn’t know him better, she might have believed that “dream come true” line. Still, she could let herself revel in a little ego-boosting for the night.
He pressed again—a deep, rolling hip-flex that stole her breath.
Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
“Right there?” he asked.
She nodded her head. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth crashed into hers, hungrier, but still edged in a grin. She felt herself inching closer and closer to the headboard with every perfect thrust, but just before she hit, Dylan reached behind her without breaking their kiss and tugged a pillow behind her head.
For some reason that did it. She cried out and he met her eyes in the dark, watching as she broke around him, quick and intense, like a series of fireworks exploding one after another and driving her hips into his.
He was only seconds behind her, his fingers tightening on her waist as he emptied and shook. “Holy shit, Dani-pie.” His weight dropped onto her and he groaned into her neck, hot humid air pricking her overly-sensitive skin.
Holy shit was right. This was her best worst idea ever.
He sucked in a breath, his chest pressing into hers with every pant. “Can you breathe?”
“Barely.” She didn’t mind, though. After all of that tequila and physical exertion, the marathon day, his weight was like a warm, heavy blanket. She could close her eyes and pass out right there, probably sleep like a baby.
But she shouldn’t.
Eventually, Dylan peeled himself up and she heard him close the bathroom door.
She flipped into her belly, the cool sheets caressing her front. “I’m going back to my room,” she slurred into the pillow.
A minute later, Dylan hopped onto the bed beside her and pulled the duvet up over them. “Sure you are.”
“In five minutes.”
She heard him laugh and if she wasn’t so damn comfortable, she would have retaliated. As it was though, a smart answer was far too much exertion. Her limbs were liquid and she was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open.
Dylan rolled toward her, hooking his leg over hers and trapping her in place. “Wake me up when you go,” he whispered.
She didn’t reply. Something deep inside her brain waved its hands and shouted at her but she imagined it sinking into the plush mattress, its voice muffled and muted.
Dylan flicked off the lamp on the bedside table. “That’s what I thought.”
Three
Dylan rubbed at his eyes, shielding his retinas with his hand as he forced them open. Painfully bright light streamed in through the curtains. Jesus—it had to be mid-morning, the sun was so bright. It had been a long time since he’d slept in this late. He sat up to read the clock and his eye caught on a mess of blonde curls buried in the pillow beside him.
Right. That’s why he hadn’t woken up with the sun. He’d been up half the night with Dani fucking Petrillo. What the hell had he said to her last night to end up here? He had no idea, but he wished he could go back in time and give last night Dylan a high five.
Dani made a little sleep sound, burying her face deeper into the pillow. His lower half stirred. The curve of her back, her golden skin contrasting against the bright white hotel sheets—could he handle naked Dani fully sober? Maybe not, but there was only one way to find out.
He trailed his finger between her shoulder blades, hoping to entice her into one more round before they had to be at brunch downstairs. She whined adorably, then tossed onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes.
Perfect. He rolled onto his side and snaked his hand under the sheet, walking his fingers down her soft stomach, but when he got to her hip, she bolted upright.
“What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty,” he answered, pressing his lips to her arm. She smelled like the flowers from the chapel and the frosting from the cake. Delicious.